


Once Upon a Time Forgotten

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Category: Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a hero and a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Time Forgotten

To this day, Link believes that Sheik’s presence in his life was a farce. That the mysterious Sheikah who’d come to his aid so many times had been a fabricated existence, just the princess of Hyrule in a well played disguise.  
  
This is not true.  
  
Of course, Link will never know of this. Only Zelda knows, and she does not intend to divulge the truth of the Sheikah. For some time, hers and Sheik’s hearts had been one. She’d hidden herself so deep in the depth of his soul that for some time, she did not know where he truly ended and she began.  
  
But he had existed. A mere desert Sheikah, an orphan like herself who had been entrusted with the care of her soul.  
  
Zelda can recall much of her time spent within him, remembers looking out through his eyes at the boy she’d met only once before. Back when things had been simple. She remembers with sharp clarity the way Link had looked at them. She thinks that Sheik was never aware of the Hero’s gaze, the irritating Sheikah likely thought that the eyes on him had been out of mere curiosity rather than interest. But she remembers the way those blue eyes had looked at Sheik, the longing in their depths so obvious that it was almost comical that Sheik had never noticed himself.  
  
Zelda can easily recall all of their meetings, for they were a burst of color in the Sheikah’s every day monochrome world. If she closes her eyes, Zelda can almost feel Link’s calloused hands against Sheik’s wrist, the single time the Hero had managed to catch Sheik before he vanished. The grip had been tight, as if Link was afraid that even with his hands compromised, Sheik would manage to magic away. She remembers looking up at Link through long blonde lashes that were not her own and wondering if he was going to kiss them. Kiss Sheik, that is.  
  
He hadn’t, but the desire to do so had been there. The other man had tightened his grip just enough for the bones in Sheik’s wrist to give an alarming creak, and Link had just stood there, _looking_ at him. His eyes had been fierce, searching for something within Sheik’s that Zelda isn’t altogether sure whether he found or not. And then he’d just let go.  
  
Sheik had watched the Hero of Time mount his horse in silence, watched as the Hero disappeared into the sunset. Only when Link had been a mere speck on the horizon did Sheik move. Zelda’s heart had broken for him as he’d slumped to the ground, their frame trembling _just so._ She wonders if he’d known then, if he’d become aware of Link’s feelings and merely chosen not to act on them.  
  
She thinks it would be like Sheik to do such a thing, to deny himself happiness just for the sake of his mission. Zelda still remembers the boy she’d met all those years ago, with his vaguely haughty manner and his unquestionable morals.  
  
She remembers seeing him through her own eyes- watching him while he trained with the other young Sheikah warriors, and how his skills had always been so above the rest of them, even then. He’d fought as if he had something to prove, quite unusual when one considers how most Sheikah pride themselves on their detached countenance.  
  
He’d been graceful, so detached from everything around him. Except for her. She had been the exception for him, the one person he’d taken an interest in, even if it had begun out of spite. Her friendship with him had been an oddity in itself. His eyes had always been so closed off, so callous and uncaring. He’d cared about defending his village and ascending into manhood. He thought of nothing else, even when the other Sheikah his age had been looking at her as if she was nothing more than a hunk of meat.  
  
Sheik had been amused by her at first, and perhaps even a bit intrigued. Their friendship had strengthened through time, though it was probably the ordeals they both endured that brought them closer together. She remembers the first time he’d laughed, and the confusion in his eyes afterwards, as if he’d been surprised by the sound. Zelda had been trying her hand at magic for the first time, with Impa as her long-suffering teacher. It had not gone well.  
  
They had been fifteen at the time, and the five years spent in the Hero’s absence had not been kind to Hyrule. The creatures screeching in the night had evolved, growing larger and far more deadly. The monsters no longer feared the light of day, or the heat of flame. As such, living became a trial rather than a necessity. Many Sheikah perished. She herself would have died many times over had Sheik not been there to shelter her from harm.  
  
It was raining the first time Sheik ever saved her life. She can still feel the chill of the rain against her skin, still see the blood mixing with the puddles of water and mud. Screams of agony had pierced the chilly night air, and she felt the terror in her very bones. Impa was no where to be seen, lost to the hapless confusion in the village. Wandering the streets alone had been horrifying, and she had spent a good hour trembling in an abandoned hut, clutching her ears and studiously ignoring the ghostly wraiths outside. It was there that Sheik had found her, his bandaged hands gentle on her back as he guided her away from the burning remains of the village.  
  
They had walked for hours, the rain pounding around them and making the desert sand sticky with mud. When daylight was finally beginning to peak over the horizon, they managed to find shelter in the form of a secluded hut.  
  
The room was small, with a small area of stone slightly raised off of the ground in what she assumed to be a makeshift bed. Old oil gleamed on the wooden torches to either side of the upraised area, which Sheik lit immediately. He’d looked at her, with something warm in his gaze, and motioned for her to join him. The stone was cold and uncomfortable, and she’d been missing Impa terribly. Against all odds, she did not think that Impa could be dead. She sat there and cried, cried until Sheik had taken her into his arms and hushed her.  
  
His body had been warm against hers as he clutched her tight to his side, tucking her head beneath his chin as if she was still a child. That night, he had showed her his face. He’d risen to his feet so quietly that she hardly noticed until she heard the rustle of cloth. She regarded him sleepily as he pulled down his mask, unwrapped blonde hair from his cowl.  
  
His face had been smooth, with high cheekbones and a sharp chin. She remembers every freckle dusting his nose, can count every pretty eyelash framing burgundy eyes. She’d looked at him, and asked him why. Why had he unveiled his face before her, knowing that to do so was to shame oneself and ones people? He had smiled at her, pretty lips crooking up into a lopsided kind of smirk, and replied-  
  
_Because I want you to remember._  
  
And she had. Zelda remembered him when others did not, when even the Hero of Time thought that Sheik was a single good memory amongst the nightmares. She remembers the last time he’d seen Link, how Sheik had moved as if to follow him when Link had been the one to walk away.  
  
She remembers, because when Sheik dies, she is the only one left to bear witness.  
  
Sheik’s blood had coated the forest floor, staining the fallen leaves a glistening crimson. The wolfos had snarled at him, all gnashing teeth and sharp claws. And of all things, he’d been distracted in that last moment by the call of an ocarina, the minuet of the forest caressing the cool air around them. He had delayed for that one moment, cocking his head toward the music in curiosity. Zelda knows that he’d thought of Link in that moment, in that one crucial moment that the beast had attacked. The moment the fatal blow had been struck, he’d pulled her from his subconscious, thrusting her soul back into her body with enough force to knock the breath from her newly reacquainted lungs. She remembers looking disbelievingly at the glow of the Sacred Realm and the anger that had welled up in her gut moments later.  
  
Distantly, she can recall the cries of the other Sages, warning her against leaving the safety of their realm. Their warnings had fallen on deaf ears because by the time they had spoken the words she had already gone, back in a forest that smelled of blood and singed fur.  
  
She saw the wolfos before she saw Sheik, lying on its back, still smoking. Its singed bones made sharp pops and crackles as she walked past it and further into the clearing. Only then did she see Sheik, lying in a pool of blood a few feet away.  
  
Sheik’s blood smeared red against her skirt as she pulled his head into her lap. He laid that way for a moment, unresponsive, eyes closed in a too pale face. Her magic had filled the clearing, lighting it with a hauntingly purple glow for several long minutes. She still remembers the way the glow had reflected off his cheekbones, making him look more like the corpse he was surely soon to become.  
  
Sheik’s eyes had flickered open once, and he’d had frowned up at her as if to chastise her for coming to his side. The magics light had made his eyes look brighter, and for a moment, she thought she’d healed him. He smiled at her, weakly, and only once.  
  
Sheik’s death affected her in ways that her own mother and fathers deaths had not. She had become accustomed to death over time, but watching him die was like watching a part of herself vanish.  
  
_I want you to remember._  
  
Zelda had put him to rest in those woods, not because she thought he’d prefer the spot but because she was not strong enough to take him elsewhere. She spent several hours sitting in those woods, staring at his still wet blood glistening against blades of pretty green grass. She had wondered if Link would ever walk by this spot and speculate as to why this particular patch of grass was forever stained red.  
  
When Zelda eventually left the woods, the bandages were still tight against her chest, the cowl still unfamiliar against her own face. She hid herself beyond a film of magic, and watched Link’s eyes fill with sorrow when she revealed herself to him.  
  
It had not been her intention to hurt him. She had not wished for him to think that Sheik was a lie, but by the time she had recognized the hurt in his eyes for what it was, she was inside Ganondorf’s crystal prison, unable to speak.  
  
Racing down crumbling passageways in a dying castle is not the time for such truths, nor is it when Ganon rises from the rubble shrieking his rage to the world. Only with Ganon imprisoned safely within the Sacred Realm does the chance to tell him come up. She doesn’t take the chance. Doesn’t tell him that Sheik was a real living person, one he himself had spoken to and perhaps even loved.  
  
She looks at Link, Hero of Time, still so proud and strong even as he drips blood onto her fingers. His blue eyes are tired, defeated, and she does not have his valor. She does not have the courage to tell him of Sheik, so she smiles at him as she rewinds time.  
  
_Remember me._  
  
Perhaps this way, she will not need to tell him. For this way, he will most probably find out on his own.


End file.
